


A Different Kind of Battle

by atucks



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Three Year Gap (Dragon Ball), Vegebul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24047302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atucks/pseuds/atucks
Summary: Takes place during the Three Year Gap after Bulma and Yamcha break up. A possible take on how Vegeta and Bulma get together."He was a challenge who had broken everything she’d thrown at him since he’d moved in. Her bots and tech were going to best him one of these days. She’d win. She was Bulma f-ing Briefs. An insanely strong alien was no match for her intellect."
Relationships: Bulma Briefs & Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in the Dragon Ball Universe and all credit goes to the creators.
> 
> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve.  
> 

Vegeta sat completely still in the center of the gravity chamber of the earth woman’s ship. He focused inward, listening closely to the rhythm of his breathing. With each intake of breath, the arms crossed tightly across his chest would rise. He tried to clear his mind, focus on nothing but the beating in his chest, the rush of air as he inhaled and exhaled, and the strong, constant pulse of his ki within.

Vegeta had always known he was capable of greatness. He could feel it thundering beneath his skin, asking for more power, demanding he be stronger, faster, smarter. He tried to focus on that drive, force his ki to increase to a greater level, tried to make it expand and satisfy that want. He could feel it rising with every inhale, every breath feeding his aching muscles from the session he’d done in heavy gravity earlier. He tried to push it further, felt his power contained within him, begging to—

A high pitched scream of anger forced him from his meditation and his eyes snapped open. They took a moment to readjust to the red of his surroundings and a second moment to recognize the noise as the earth woman and her useless mate arguing outside of the ship. He let out a growl and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out their incessant bickering.

He tried to find the level his ki had been reaching a few minutes before but the yelling outside became louder, making it impossible to stay focused. His anger rolled beneath his skin, reaching that all too familiar boiling point. Before he could stop himself, he was stomping over to the control panel, powering the gravity off and pulling the door open with far more force than he had meant to. The clang of the door didn’t seem to faze the couple and they continued with their argument, oblivious to the seething Saiyan. 

Vegeta waited a minute. Usually, the earth woman was more aware of her surroundings, her mind taking in everything around her one thousand times faster than any other of the weaklings she seemed to call friends, but her mind stayed focused on her mate.

“I meant what I said the last time you were here. You need to leave.” Her voice had gone deadly quiet. Vegeta was briefly surprised by the strength and bitter anger her words were laced with. He took a step forward but stopped himself. He didn’t know what had gotten into him. What did he care about this earth woman’s anger? Instead, he crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.

“C’mon Bulma.” The man said. Vegeta searched his mind for his name but came up empty. This man had never been worth his time, he could have easily killed him with one blast when he was a small child who still struggled to control and put any real power behind his ki blasts. 

Bulma’s brow arched and the scowl darkened her features into a fierce look that would make any man cower. 

Vegeta remembered similar looks on Saiyan women but quickly shoved that thought away. 

“It’s been close to a month. When are we going to stop this back and forth thing? I’m ready to go all in. You and me, Yamcha and Bulma forever.”

Yamcha. That’s right. The weakling before her was named Yamcha. 

“I stopped this back and forth thing an entire month ago, you moron. Remember? Or did you bury your brain in that little baseball groupie along with your dick?” 

Yamcha’s mouth dropped open and his hand rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably. “Is that what caused this? C’mon babe, nothing happened! She just came by with the team and needed a place to crash afterward.” Vegeta snorted at the obvious lie. Yamcha’s gaze snapped to where he was still standing with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the ship’s door. He let his lips come up in a lazy smirk, trying to ignite Yamcha’s anger even further. Maybe he’d be able to goad him into a fight.

Instead, Yamcha’s attention turned back to Bulma. “Oh, I see how it is. Don’t need me to fulfill your needs when you have your evil little monster here to fantasize about.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and debated about readying a small ki blast to fire at him. He decided against it, waiting to see if the woman would obliterate him with her words. Despite how his skin prickled from the impropriety at what this weakling was suggesting, this was not his battle and those words were not a shot at him. He kept his arms tightly crossed over his chest and said nothing.

“Having an intelligent man at the compound for once is definitely an upgrade. Not to mention, not having to listen to your grating voice spout bullshit has improved both of our moods.” Bulma turned and began to walk toward the house. “Now leave. If I have to ask you again, I’ll ask my houseguest to dispose of you in whatever manner he sees fit.” She waved a careless hand over her shoulder, flashing Yamcha the middle finger before disappearing into the house.

Yamcha turned around and glared. “Enjoy the show?”

Vegeta let out a laugh and took a step forward. “Watching useless weakling’s get crushed is a favorite pastime of mine.”

“Must be hard for that ego of yours to stomach coming in second all the time. Second to Goku, and now waiting in line for Bulma.” Yamcha took a step forward. Vegeta’s anger surged within him and he moved, fast as light to pin Yamcha to the side of the building. He heard the sliding glass of the back door in the distance but he ignored it.

“I have killed better men than you for less. After I destroy the androids, I will destroy you next. You are so weak that you’re insignificance and insecurities have made you seek comfort in anything that pays you the slightest of compliments. You are nothing. You are useless and when the time comes, you will see that you are nothing but a cockroach among gods and I will crush you beneath my boot without using so much as a tenth of my power.” Vegeta shoved him as he stepped back. “I have no interest in the woman, but know that I could have taken her from you without so much as lifting a finger. You are worthless, you have no honor, and you were asked to leave.”

Vegeta turned and stomped back into the gravity room. He felt the weak ki leave the compound and he turned the bots on high, resuming his training at the same grueling pace he had done earlier in the day. 

\--

Bulma heard Yamcha’s car leave and made her way back to the gravity room where she had been reworking the control system. The new gravity room was even more powerful than the last and Bulma had been excited to try and make it as challenging, but safe, as possible for her guest.

She’d had it installed next to her lab for an extra precaution this time. If she noticed the sensors going off, she’d be right there to power it down, the Saiyan’s wrath be damned. 

After the room had been built, she had thrown herself into her work and installed some pretty high tech equipment that included state of the art bots designed to detect and adjust to the power level of the occupant, as well as automatically turn off if they sensed a significant injury. 

Yamcha hadn’t understood and it had erupted into another fight. He’d accused her of putting so much effort into it because she had a thing for Vegeta. Bulma had rolled her eyes. She wasn’t the one that had been unfaithful during their decade together. Sure, she flirted and had eyes. Vegeta looked like a god among men, but it wasn’t like she had ever made a move nor would ever.

But he was a challenge who had broken everything she’d thrown at him since he’d moved in. Her bots and tech were going to best him one of these days. She’d win. She was Bulma fucking Briefs. An insanely strong alien was no match for her intellect. 

Not to mention that it was nice to have a verbal sparring partner that didn’t cower from her every time she got angry or apologize and lie to get out of taking responsibility for his actions. 

She slammed the control panel shut in frustration. How dare Yamcha come over here and pretend she hadn’t seen the naked woman in his apartment. How dare he speak about her like that to Vegeta, as if she were a piece of meat they were fighting over and she was some desperate woman vying for their attention.

She opened another panel and began to loosen a bolt to get a better look inside the motor that controlled the gravity. She had figured out a way to make it more efficient and increase the gravity at steadier, almost undetectable increments, but she needed to update the equipment she had installed a few days before.

She wondered if she could convince Vegeta to come and test it out while she made the adjustments, but let out an exasperated sigh. She had no desire to see him right now and even less desire to interrupt his training. Instead, she made the changes and made a note to convince him when he seemed in a calm mood. Maybe after dinner… he was always more amenable after eating a meal.

Hours later, her mother knocked on the door, startling out of her thoughts as she poured over the plans in front of her. 

“Hey, honey! Dinner is almost done. Would you like me to have a plate brought down here to you? Vegeta’s about to get out of the shower and I want to make sure that you’re able to get as much food as you want before I let him have at the rest.”

“No, I’m coming.” Bulma stood and stretched a hand over her head, pulling at her shoulder until it popped. 

She followed her mother upstairs and took the seat next to her father at the table. He was explaining something about the ship's mechanics to Vegeta, who sat quietly looking uncharacteristically polite and interested.

Dinner was a quick and painless affair. When they had finished, Vegeta excused himself and began his walk upstairs to shut himself in his room for the evening. Bulma figured this was her best chance and ran after him.

“Vegeta! Wait.”

He stopped with one foot on the steps. “If this is about what I said to your former mate earlier—,” He started as a blush crept across his cheeks, but Bulma cut him off. 

“No. It’s about the gravity chamber. I can’t go in there and I need someone who can to help me iron out some of the issues I’ve been having with it.”

He was quiet for a moment and Bulma waited him out. In the past year or so, she’d come to realize that Vegeta never did anything on impulse when he was calm. The only way she saw him show any kind of impulsive reaction was when she got him riled up. She debated about doing so right now: he was always such a tempting target. Before she could decide on the perfect jab to fluster him, he nodded and gestured for her to lead the way to the lab.

She put in the code for the room and opened the door for him to go through. She closed it and heard the door automatically lock, sealing it off from anyone outside of the room. She’d installed an automatic sensor in it to detect when someone was inside, making it impossible for anyone to get into it while it was activated. 

The intercom system came on as she walked to the control system and she smiled wide at Vegeta’s very serious face. “Okay, so I installed some new additions that should make it a seamless transition between gravity changes. I was thinking it would let your muscles adapt to the change and may help you get stronger faster, as you don’t have to take time to readjust every time it changes.” She waited for him to acknowledge that he’d heard her and then she continued. “What’s a good level I should start it at? Fifty?”

He shrugged again and she typed in fifty. She heard the machine hum as the gravity slowly increased until it beeped, letting her know it had hit the desired level. “How was that?”

“I train in three hundred times Earth’s gravity these days. I barely feel a difference.” His gravelly voice said.

Bulma rolled her eyes and upped it to one-fifty. When it beeped again, she saw him lift a hand and slowly clench and unclench his fists. “Not bad.” He looked back at the monitor and smiled.

Her stomach dropped and a blush spread across her cheeks. She’d never seen him smile like that, as if he was actually excited about something for once. She’d only seen him smile when mocking someone or saying something cruel. 

“What?” His frown returned.

“Nothing. I’m going to turn it to two-fifty.”

“Fine. When will this be ready for use? It will be more beneficial to my training than the ship.” He crossed his arms again and stared intently at her from the screen.

She huffed and crossed her own arms, mimicking his stance. “Maybe if someone hadn’t blown the other one up, I could have made these improvements months ago instead of focusing on repairing the first one!”

“Tch.”

“I’m serious, Vegeta. Don’t even think of blowing this one up. I installed safety measures, but let me know before you push it past where you think it can go so that I can try to upgrade it.” The machine beeped, letting her know it had hit two-fifty. She looked back at the camera and saw Vegeta had begun to fly around.

“This will suffice.” He finally said and landed beside the control panel. He punched the code in and Bulma heard air release from the room. She turned to the door as he walked out. “When will this be ready?” He asked again. “I’d prefer to use this room.”

“Give me a few more days.” He nodded and turned to leave. She reached out grabbed the top of his glove, her fingers clenching around the soft white fabric. “Wait.”

He stopped but did not turn to face her. Bulma tried and failed to form the words of her question in a way that wouldn’t set him off.

“Woman, out with it. I need to sleep so that I can train early tomorrow.”

“Thank you. For earlier. I don’t know why you were out there, but thank you for making him leave.” She said.

Vegeta turned his head so she could see his profile. His dark eyes held hers for a moment. “I needed him gone so that I could resume training.”

She sighed and let him go. “Well, thanks anyway.”

He took a few steps toward the stairs that led to their rooms, but then stopped and said, “You had won the battle before I stepped in. I just identified a weakness and exploited it so that he wouldn’t come back for more.” He furrowed his brow as if thinking about something. “I meant what I said.”

She grinned at the perfect opening. “At being able to steal me from him if you wanted? I had no idea you wanted me so bad, Vegeta.” She winked and smiled her most seductive smile at him.

He growled and stomped down the hallway. Bulma was about ninety percent sure she heard the terms ‘vulgar’ and ‘nuisance’ thrown around.

She grinned and turned back towards her computer. She had a few more updates to make before she went to sleep. Maybe she could get him into the room by the next afternoon if she could figure out how to have it absorb his energy output.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in the Dragon Ball Universe and all credit goes to the creators.
> 
> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve. I also want to give you a heads up: I specialize in trauma and I think I might have gone a little overboard with the psychoanalysis in this chapter. Hopefully, it wasn't too much! I tried to edit it down and then gave up.

Bulma had succeeded in her plan to get Vegeta into the new gravity room by the next afternoon. She had proudly walked across the lawn to where he was training in the ship, ready to regale him with tales of her troubles, but he had not asked. 

So she had to tell him anyway and it had taken the fun out of it when she had an unenthusiastic listener looking at her impatiently, waiting for her to give him the new code (that she had changed for precisely this reason). He’d lasted longer than she thought he would and let her get about halfway through before he growled and demanded she “open the damn room at once”. 

Then he’d gone in and the two of them went about their regularly scheduled business. Days passed before they truly interacted with more than a grunt in the hallway or a small request during meals. Bulma didn’t mind, she’d been working on some designs she and her father had discussed during their last board meeting. Completing the small and simple ideas given by the board allowed her to spend more time free of their bothersome meetings and working on projects she was truly interested in. 

But then she had finished their requests and realized that she had nothing to do.

Nothing to do but wait. Wait for the impending annihilation of humankind and the struggle of her friends to save it. Bulma was not a fighter, not a warrior. She could train, but that would do next to nothing. The most she could hope to achieve in the next year was to maybe be able to land a punch on Chi-Chi, and even that was a big maybe. She tried to think of things she could do to help her friends in their battle, make them a little safer, and increase their odds in winning this, but she had come up short.

So instead, she tossed and turned throughout the night until she couldn’t take it anymore. She went downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of tea and maybe steal a few (or all) of the chocolate chip cookies her mother had baked earlier in the day.

She hadn’t been prepared for the Saiyan to be sitting at the island in the center of the kitchen and eating what looked like leftovers from dinner a few nights ago. He’d looked up at her as she walked in but said nothing and returned to his food.

Bulma set about to get the pot ready to boil and then pulled out a barstool opposite her quiet guest. She rested her face in her hands and watched him eat his food in silence. 

He raised a brow at her but said nothing as he continued to eat. 

She didn’t know how he did that. Bulma was sure that there were days where Vegeta didn’t speak at all, communicating with nods or small gestures. She watched him eat and noted how clean and proper he was compared to Goku.

Finally, he sighed and set his fork down.

“What do you want, woman?”

She smiled brightly at him and shrugged. She heard the teapot behind her and hopped off her stool, pulling two mugs from the cabinet. She grabbed two bags of the chamomile tea, figuring it would help her stomach settle a bit. She quickly poured the cups and then slowly slid a mug over to him, turning around to grab the milk.

“Do you take it with milk?” She asked as she poured a generous amount into her own. When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him. He was sniffing at the tea, an eyebrow raised.

“I have never had this kind before.” 

“Oh! Sorry, I should have asked.” She said, smiling at his admittance. She’d been trying to get him to open up for almost a year, but had very little success. She wondered if he had ever let anyone really get to know him; Krillin had mentioned that he had been enslaved by Frieza at a very young age. Maybe he needed a friend.

Bulma knew that she needed one. She had been feeling pretty lonely since breaking up with Yamcha a few months ago. He was often the only connection she had to her friends. She hadn’t seen Goku or Krillin in ages, and none of her friends were very good at keeping in touch. She couldn’t even remember the last time she spoke with Tien, not that he was the best conversationalist anyways. 

Which left her with Vegeta, who was by far more interesting than her friends anyways.

“You should try mine then.” She set the milk between them and pushed her own cup at him. When he didn’t immediately reach for it, she sighed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll drink it and if you do, then you can have that cup.”

He didn’t move and instead continued to stare at it. 

“Honestly Vegeta, if I was trying to poison you I’d be subtle about it.” She reached across the table to grab the cup back but he quickly put it to his lips and took a small sip. 

“I’ll take this one.”

“Oof wrong choice. Now you’re going to die.” She smiled at him and filled the other mug with milk. He gave no indication that he heard her and took another drink. After a few moments, he went back to his food. 

Bulma studied him for a moment, trying to put her finger on what was different about him. He was the same quiet Vegeta she ate dinner with every night, the same one that could probably kill her with a look. A smoldering, dangerous look that Bulma wouldn’t deny she had dreamed about in… not so innocent circumstances.

She stared a moment longer and smiled when she finally put her finger on it. He was wearing a t-shirt. Not one of those he used for training, but the simple white kind that some men wore as undershirts. She smiled at how normal it made him look. It was tighter on him, especially in his biceps and across his chest, showing the outline of his—

Across the table, Vegeta cleared his throat. Bulma felt her cheeks heat at being caught and she guiltily met his eyes. He had one brow raised and what Bulma could only assume was amusement on his face. She bit her lip to keep from blurting out her immediate thoughts and thought for a moment. 

Finally, Bulma said, “I was just noticing you’re wearing a t-shirt.” 

He frowned and looked down and then back up at her. “You’re mother said it is a shirt for bed.” Her mother had gone out and bought Vegeta any and every piece of clothing he might need. She was sure there was a jean jacket somewhere in there. She couldn’t picture Vegeta wearing that in any situation.

She shrugged. “Sometimes. Honestly, I always pictured you as more of a half-naked sleeper.”

She hadn’t pictured him in a t-shirt or that pink badman shirt she’d stuck him in for that matter, but neither was a bad sight. It made him look almost human, like a normal man who was eating two pounds of leftovers for a midnight snack instead of an alien with an insane metabolism from the literal hours he spent training each day and a physique that rivaled the bodies of Greek gods.

Vegeta’s brow raised even higher and a small smirk played on the edge of his lips. “Picturing me half-naked?” A small blush crept across his cheeks as if even he couldn’t believe what he’d just said. “You really are a vulgar woman.”

Shocked laughter escaped her lips and it took her a second to compose herself. “I’m just used to you in armor or training clothes. It’s a new look, definitely not a bad one. Just new.”

“Armor isn’t comfortable and training clothes are for training.” He said before returning to his food. 

Bulma watched him again and noticed the meticulous way that he cut the meat in front of him. He ate quickly but was still clean, even stopping to wipe his mouth now and then. He was a soldier through and through. 

“Stop it.” He growled.

Bulma widened her eyes, attempting to look innocent. She didn’t know what she had done, but she couldn’t help needling him. “Stop what?”

“Assessing me. Using that shrewd little brain of yours to try and pinpoint weaknesses or figure out how I work.” He pointed his fork at her accusingly.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips at the compliment. “I’m not trying to figure you out.” She grabbed her mug between her palms and sat back in her chair. “I’ve had close to a year to figure you out, but I probably only needed a week.”

He finished the last bite of his food and set his fork down, leaning forward in his chair as he did so. He narrowed his eyes at her and Bulma felt a brief bolt of fear travel down her spine. She remembered his threat to kill her and Krillin on Namek and noticed a similar look in his eyes now. “Do tell.”

Bulma sipped her tea and focused on the warmth spreading through her chest. When she felt calm, she reminded herself that she had not been bluffing a moment ago. She did know Vegeta. She’d studied him intently to challenge him, to beat him.

“Well, there’s the obvious things that everyone who has spent at least five seconds with you knows: that you’re moody and hotheaded with the craziest inferiority complex.” She paused and began ticking the rest of her observations off on her fingers. “But then there’s your issues with control. I mean seriously, you are so bent on controlling every aspect of yourself that you bury every feeling other than anger. You’re prideful but I can see that you grapple with feelings of inadequacy. You weren’t the hero that you prophesized to be, instead, it was Goku. A lowly Saiyan. You’re an expert at reading people and finding their weaknesses, but you’re hopelessly lacking in basic social skills which makes it difficult to build any type of relationship or allow the expression of your feelings in socially appropriate ways. If we’re analyzing you though, all of this most likely stems from the trauma you experienced at the hands of that monster, Frieza, or maybe feelings of abandonment. I mean you were psychologically tortured, ripped from your parents, and then—”

Vegeta abruptly stood and slammed his hands on the table. “That’s enough!” He all but yelled. 

Bulma’s eyes snapped to where his hands had connected with the counter, expecting to see it split in half but saw nothing. He was still in control. She mentally reminded herself of the point that she had just made about his issues with control and tried not to smile. 

“Astute observations, worthy of a tactician who specializes in mind games. Should I do you?” He didn’t pause long enough for her to answer. “Should we start with the obvious?” 

“Please,” Bulma said. She took another sip from her tea. 

“Why don’t we start with your obvious reactive reactions? You’re ruled by your emotions and you feel everything so strongly. Yes, I am quick to become angry but so are you. Someone might point out a small, insignificant thing and you react by yelling or hitting. Where does that come from? A lack of boundaries set by your parents? Did they let you do whatever you want, with no consequences? Tell you how smart you are but never teach you how to respect the opinions of others?”

“Don’t bring my parents into this.”

Vegeta shrugged and continued. “What about your complete disregard for danger? Compared to your friends, you are weak. Sure, you’re intelligent, but how will that hold up to someone like me? I’ve heard bits and pieces about you’re adventures as a child. You pointed out my feelings of inadequacy, Bulma, but what of yours? Is it that you engage in self-destructive behaviors to prove you are useful and are powerful in your own way?” Bulma felt her jaw clench in irritation.

“Why don’t we look at the way you treat men? You were with your former mate for many years, yet you flirted with other men, many of whom honestly could have easily killed you and your mate had they wanted to. You accused him of being unfaithful, but yet you were the one constantly making lewd comments at others.”

White-hot anger coursed through Bulma and she slammed her tea down. “I never cheated on him.”

Vegeta shrugged again. “I never said you did. But you were with a man who you never intended to be with forever, who was quite honestly probably nothing but comfort. During this time, you made remarks at men that you would never be with, and who could kill you with little effort. What does that say about you? Who is the emotionally unavailable one now? Did you do that to feel alive, a little thrill of flirting with danger? Or was it to get a reaction out of men who didn’t want you and make you feel powerful? Did that come from years of your little mate doing the same to you?”

Before Bulma had thought it through, her hand was flying towards Vegeta. He caught her wrist easily and smiled cruelly. “We all have our flaws, Bulma.”

He dropped her hand and picked his dishes up, setting them in the sink as he made his way out of the kitchen. Bulma went to follow him. She wasn’t done with him. She raced through all of the comebacks in her head, trying to find the perfect one as she made her way up the stairs. She was almost to the top when she heard the slam of his door and she stopped abruptly.

What was she trying to argue with him about? Was she trying to point out all of his flaws to one-up him? Or was she offended that he had been right?

Instead of slamming her fist on his door, she stomped into her bedroom and threw herself onto her bed. She let herself be angry for a few minutes before she made her way into her bathroom and rewashed her face to help her calm down. She stared at herself in the mirror as she patted her face dry and reapplied her face lotion.

Bulma thought about her reaction to that green man on Namek, how she had cried about marrying Yamcha after he had been killed. Vegeta had been right. She had known it. She didn’t know if she had a right to be angry, but she was. She had started it, but he had delivered the final blow and then retreated before she could even respond.

She had started it, she reminded herself. She had brought up Frieza and his childhood. She knew it would anger him, but she had been desperate to prove she could challenge him.

She sighed. Fuck Vegeta. He’d beaten her again. He’d made her angry and caused her to lose control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve. I'll try to update weekly.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in the Dragon Ball Universe and all credit goes to the creators.
> 
> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you see or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve.

Vegeta woke in a sweat, his heartbeat thundering within his chest. He sat up and yanked the tangled covers from his legs, swinging his feet to the floor. His head dropped into his hands and he desperately tried to steady his breathing. 

The nightmares had been getting worse since his time on Earth. This one had been particularly bad and Vegeta tried to shove the memories from his mind, but they didn’t budge. The images were branded into his mind: the bloodied faces of men, women, and children, people he didn’t see die but knew had suffered. Sometimes the people were his own, proud Saiyan’s killed for nothing. Other times, the nightmares were more personal and often included those he had killed directly. 

It made no difference who the victim was; he woke up the same way every time. 

Vegeta assumed their increase was directly related to Frieza’s death. Now that he wasn’t afraid he was going to be killed any minute of the day, he felt less tired, less on edge. It let his brain have more energy to think through everything he had done, everything he had feared his entire life.

He thought back to Bulma’s words the evening before in the kitchen: child soldier. She’d said it with pity in her voice as if he couldn’t have helped what he’d become.

But Vegeta knew differently. He was not innocent. He knew that he had made those choices, knew that he had been the one to fire the shot that would kill millions into countless planets’ cores. At first, he’d done it because his father had told him that it was what Saiyan’s were designed to do: destroy. Later, Vegeta had killed mostly to survive. For years he focused on nothing but survival. The survival of his father, his people, and then for himself.

He pushed himself off the bed and dressed quickly in his training gear, making his way to the gravity room as swiftly and quietly as he could. He set the gravity to one hundred and the bots on a mid-level difficulty. 

He needed to destroy, to feel like himself again.

He fired an energy blast at the first bot and felt himself regain control at the damage it produced. The bot shot an energy beam at him and he easily dodged it, hitting it with another blast from behind. The first bot fell to the ground easily. The second came out of the wall and he felt his power surge beneath his skin.

Destroying had always been so easy for him. He relished feeling in control, the feeling of taking an enemy down who was twice his size. He loved the feeling of becoming more powerful and he wanted, no, needed to be the most powerful in the universe.

The second bot fired another shot at him and he dodged it easily. He quickly dispatched of it and flew down to the control panel, increasing the difficulty to the highest setting Bulma had created. A third and fourth bot charged out from the walls and Vegeta felt his instincts kick in. He dodged their blows and blades and fired blast after blast until at least ten bots were scattered around the room beneath him. 

He ended the simulation and then collected what he could of the pieces before departing the room and depositing he remains on the workbench in the center of Bulma’s lab. 

He smiled at the heap of screws and metal. He found a piece of paper and scrawled a quick note to her, placing it on the top of the pile.

Then he went to raid the kitchen for breakfast.

\--

Bulma took her time waking up and didn’t roll out of bed until hours later than normal. She debated about going downstairs to grab a quick breakfast but decided that what she really wanted was to take a long, hot shower to think through her problems. She turned the tap on high and smiled as her bathroom filled with steam. She stepped into the stream of water and audibly sighed as the stream of waters cascaded over her face. She ran her hands through her curls until they were adequately wet. She grabbed her favorite shampoo and squirted a fair amount into her hands and began to massage it into her hair. 

Only then did Bulma think about the previous night, playing Vegeta’s words over and over in her head, trying to identify what remark had made her lose control.

His first remark about her parents had stung, but she knew they were distractible and probably a little too hands-off in terms of their parenting style. But Bulma had also been an incredibly intelligent child and knew her parents would have stepped up the boundaries if they had known about half of the things she had gotten into. She was thankful that she had been so adept at keeping them in the dark; she didn’t know who she would be if she hadn’t gone through those adventures with Goku. So she shrugged off his first criticism.

She moved onto his next point and focused on relaxing the muscles in her back beneath the steaming water. 

He’d essentially called her selfish, a fact Bulma already knew. She’d been told countless times that she could be self-centered She’d been working on that over the past couple of years. She knew that she could have a one-track mind and often forgot that other people didn’t think quite like her. 

That left his last point. She knew without going into it why his last point had hit so close to home: Yamcha. He hit her where she was still vulnerable, where she still sometimes felt that gaping hole. 

Vegeta was a strategist, a soldier. He broke down entire armies’ defenses and was able to spot weaknesses within minutes of meeting his opponents. She knew it was why he had saved that point for last: to end the battle before she hit him harder.

She pressed her forehead against the porcelain tile of her shower. She needed to deal with that wound before it began to fester.

There was no doubt that it had been the right move to end things. Vegeta had said it himself: Yamcha was never someone she intended to be with forever. He flirted a lot with far too much success and he often made her feel as if her intelligence was less important than his strength. They’d been so in love their first few years together that the entire rest of their relationship focused on how in love they used to be. In the end, it felt like their relationship was a hollow shell, empty and shallow.

She turned off the water and wrapped a towel around herself. She was too tired to deal with that today so she pushed it aside.

Today, she needed to figure out how to spend her time over the next few months. She had a few ideas but wasn’t sure how far she could get on them in the limited time she had. She dressed quickly and headed down to the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee and something quick for breakfast.

She smiled at her mother who was eating at the island and poured herself a large mug, adding a significant amount of cream and sugar.

“You’re up late.” Her mother said.

Bulma just smiled and grabbed one of the croissants laid on the counter. She started toward her lab, thinking about time travel and that boy who claimed to be from the future. Maybe she’d start there. 

“Wait!” her mother cried. Bulma paused and turned back around. “I was thinking we could go get out hair done today. I called Celeria and she said she had openings. What do you think? I penciled us in, but I told her I needed to confirm with you first.”

Bulma grinned. That sounded better than her plans. She had been meaning to have her hair relaxed anyways. She loved the curls, but her naturally straight hair was so much easier to care for. 

“That sounds perfect.”

\--

When Bulma returned hours later, she went down to her lab to grab her notebook. She wanted to go over some of the theories she had started to form earlier that morning. If that boy really was from the future, then that meant time travel was a very real possibility. Bulma didn’t know anyone other than herself and her father who were anywhere near smart enough to figure out how to do something like that. It had to be a Capsule Corp. discovery, she was sure. 

She pushed open the door and smiled that the red light above the gravity room: occupied. She shouldn’t have been surprised, it was barely five at night. He probably had a good hour left in him. She continued past the room and stopped short when she saw her workbench. It had been covered in scraps of metal: some were charred and others looked like they had been shredded.

Apparently, Vegeta had been busy today.

She felt a smile tug at her lips and stomped over to the pile. Perched on the top was a small note. In his dark, blocky handwriting Vegeta had written:

HARDER, BULMA.

A small laugh escaped her mouth and she tucked the note into her desk drawer.

Who said Vegeta didn’t have a sense of humor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you see or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve.  
> I'm aiming to update this at least once or twice per week since I have a little more time on my hands right now.  
> -atucks


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in the Dragon Ball Universe and all credit goes to the creators.
> 
> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve.

Capsule Corp. was quiet. It was well past midnight and Bulma was hard at work in her lab. She had made tremendous progress towards modifying the bots to be able to withstand more force, but she was struggling to make them quick enough to challenge Vegeta. She was close. She could feel it. There was something she was missing, something they needed before she could send them into the gravity chamber.

She sat back in her chair and huffed. What she needed was to see them in action, but it was late and she didn’t want to ask her Saiyan houseguest for a favor at this hour. He needed to sleep so that he could continue to train. If Goku failed, it would be left to him to defeat the Androids.

Bulma rubbed her eyes and pulled her notebook toward her. She’d have to wait till tomorrow to do anything more with the bots. 

Instead, she turned her attention towards her notes. She’d been trying to figure out the mechanics of time travel but had come up painfully short. So far, she’d made a list of what she knew to try to figure out where to start. 

Somehow the boy had come back from the future. He’d said he was seventeen and had told Goku that he had come from twenty years in the future. The Androids were due three years after he came back, two years from now. Well, a little less than two years from now. But other than this sparse timeline, Bulma had nothing. She had no existing plans to look over, no machines to look over, just her imagination running wild while still grasping at nothing. 

What she did know was this: the faster a person travels, the slower they experience time. At least, according to Einstein’s theory of special relativity. This must not be true in the future, as that logic would only allow someone to move into the future. In theory at least. Bulma began scribbling more theories and notes to herself. She’d need to look into this more. She needed to look at the current theories out there. She quickly jotted those she knew down:

Cosmic string theory came to mind first. She’d always thought this one was ludicrous. The idea that there were tubes of energy that would stretch from one end of the universe to the other, possibly in loops, seems impossible and entirely out of the question. She’d rolled her eyes at the idiots at university who tried to convince her this was the case. Even now, she would save this one for last. She didn’t think it was likely.

Then there were the theories that involved wormholes and black holes. Those might be worth looking into. But she’d start with the theory of relativity. It was what she knew to be true, so she’d have to prove or disprove it to move on. 

She felt a sense of comfort in her chest at identifying a starting point and rested her head back against the rest of her chair, closing her eyes. She tried to picture that boy in her mind, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. His eyes… she was sure they were similar to Vegeta’s. His heavy brow was recognizable. But it couldn’t be. Vegeta was dead in his timeline. They all were. 

That left a possibility that maybe Vegeta and Goku weren’t the last of the Saiyan race. Or maybe Vegeta had a fling in the future. Neither was out of the possibility. Goku had somehow survived. Vegeta was an attractive guy. Not all hook-ups involved having to talk to or get to know your partner.

Bulma yawned and leaned forward in her chair again, resting her head on her forearms. She felt the overwhelming sense of dread set itself in the pit of her stomach. She focused on her breathing, trying to ease the knot and felt herself slowly relax. They would get through this.

She repeated it to herself again and again. They would get through this.

What felt like seconds later, she was being shaken awake by a gentle hand. She lifted her head and rubbed her eyes. She turned her head from side to side and winced at the tightness she found. She must have dozed off for more than a few minutes. She looked to the person who had woken her and smiled sleepily at him. 

“Oh, hey Vegeta.” She stood and stretched, trying to crack her back as she moved from side to side. Vegeta’s eyes followed her movements and she hid her smile.

“You didn’t look comfortable.” He said after a bit.

She nodded. “Thanks for waking me up. I must’ve fallen asleep. I was hoping to get a little more done, but it looks like my brain felt it was enough for one night!” She grabbed her journal and plopped it in her desk drawer. 

He said nothing but took a step toward the bot that laid on the table in front of her. He picked up one of its arms and examined it closely. He looked back up at her. “Is this what you were working on?”

Bulma walked over and stood beside him, close enough for her arm to brush his. Her stomach flipped at the contact, but she kept it there and smiled when Vegeta didn’t pull his away. He’d been allowing her to get closer to him over the past year, tolerating her presence for longer amounts of time. “Yes. It’s not quite ready yet. It doesn’t move how I want it to. I need to see it in action to figure out what it needs.”

Vegeta said nothing for a moment and Bulma turned to study his profile. His brows were arched down as he thought and inspected the bot before him. She saw a muscle flinch at the corner of his sharp jaw, and then he turned and faced her. 

They had been close before, but standing face to face, Bulma was acutely aware of how little space truly separated them. She remembered her dream from a few months ago, the way he had forcefully pushed her against the very desk they were standing in front of. In her dream, he had kissed her roughly, his hands gently traveling along her body. Bulma wondered what the real, solid Vegeta in front of her would feel like to kiss. He was even stronger than Yamcha, more dangerous than anything she’d ever known. Being able to make someone like him moan would make her feel powerful.

“Are they ready to be tested now?” He said, pulling her from her thoughts. She cocked an eyebrow at him and he pointed to the bots. “The training robots. Are they ready to be tested now?”

“Oh.” Bulma felt her face heat and turned back towards the bot in front of her. “Yes. It should be fine. I don’t want you to destroy it. I just need to see it attack and defend itself so I can see the weaknesses.”

“Would you…” Vegeta started. Bulma looked back at him and he continued. “Would you like to try them now?”

“If you’re ready.” Bulma yawned. She probably needed sleep, but she wasn’t going to turn down an offer from a willing test-subject. “Would you mind if I recorded it? It’ll be easier to review that way.”

He shrugged and picked up the bot from the table. Bulma glared at how easily he was able to move the machine. She’d had to use the crane to lift its separate parts.

Vegeta stalked into the gravity room and Bulma took her place at the control panel. She flipped on the monitor and set the system to record. It would back up to her desk computer. She looked at Vegeta on the monitor. He was setting up the bot in the center of the room. When he finished, he looked up at her. 

“What does it need to be set to?” He asked, his rough voice cracking through the mic.

“Just set it somewhere in the middle. I just need to see it move.” She rubbed her eyes and then added. “Don’t you dare break it, Vegeta.”

Bulma swore she heard him chuckle as he leaned down and fiddled with the switches. He stood back and floated into the air. The bot turned on in the room and scanned Vegeta, sizing him up and adjusting its force. It floated into the air and flew at him. Vegeta dodged it easily and Bulma watched as he appeared quickly behind it and elbowed it. The bot spun and shot a beam at him, following up with a swipe with one of the blades she had installed on it. Vegeta moved back, but not before the bot caught his shirt, slicing through it easily.

Bulma winced. She could see some blood begin to soak the gray of his t-shirt, but Vegeta didn’t seem fazed. He continued to spar with the bot, deflecting its punches until he backed it into a corner and reached to turn it off. 

Bulma fumbled beneath the control panel for the first aid kit she’d placed there and began to unpack the gauze and antiseptic. She heard the door open and heard her bot drop back onto the table. 

“They can take a hit. They need to be faster.” He said, walked past her and headed back toward the gravity room.

She vaulted from her seat and grabbed his arm. He would continue to train all day with that wound if she let him. She didn’t need him dying from an infection; it was enough that Goku was already possibly at risk. 

Vegeta yanked his arm out of her grasp and spun to face her. “What do you want, woman? I helped with your bots.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “My bots? You mean the ones I designed for your training?”

He glared back at her. “You needed my help. I offered it. What more do you want?” He crossed his arms over his chest, the blood from his chest smudging along his arms. 

She pointed to it. “That’s deep. Let me fix it up.”

“It’s fine. I’ve endured worse.” She didn’t have trouble believing that to be true. She’d seen the scars littered across his body after the explosion of the previous gravity room. He’d endured a lot of pain in his life, that she was sure of. She still wasn’t going to let him endure this.

She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms in return. “You might need stitches. It caught you off guard. Let me clean it and patch it up now so that I don’t have to do more extensive patch-ups later.”

He turned back towards the gravity room, ready to ignore her. Anger flared inside her and her arms flew to her sides, fists balling up. Her pulse sped beneath her skin. “Vegeta get in the chair now before I deactivate that room.” 

He turned back towards her, his face morphing into anger. “You don’t tell me what to do.” His voice rose to match hers. 

“Now. Or I swear I’ll do it.” She moved to the control panel and started the process to manually override it. A rough palm yanked her own back.

He plopped into the chair and scowled at her, his arms tightly crossing over his chest. He reminded Bulma of a petulant child and she grabbed the antiseptic.

“Shirt off.” He groaned but pulled it over his head with little more protest.

Bulma set to work. It was a fair bit deeper than she had been expecting and stretched along his torso. She tore open one of the antiseptic wipes and began to try to clean it. Thank god had taken first aid classes. She’d need a full-time medic here if she hadn’t. Once she could examine it better, she looked up at him. 

“It’s going to need stitches. You heal faster than the average human, but you’ll still need to rest today.” She braced herself for the push back and narrowed her eyes at him when it came.

“Absolutely not. It’s a minor wound.” He said, his voice leaving little to argue with. Bulma doused some gauze in antiseptic and pressed it to the wound. He flinched back and hissed between his teeth.

“It’ll need stitches and your training will pull them out, causing more damage and take a much longer time to heal. I’m sure you’ll be fine in a day or two, but until then you’ll need to take it easy.” When he said nothing, she pushed on. “One day won’t kill your progress Vegeta. Hell, it might even allow your body to rest enough to heal and make you even stronger.”

“Tch.” Bulma smiled. She’d won again.

Vegeta was quiet as she finished cleaning the wound and didn’t flinch as she stitched his wound up. She decided it would be easier and safer to wrap gauze around his torso to cover the stitches. Vegeta wordlessly helped her, looking away as she leaned inches from his face to reach around him. She fastened the gauze in place and leaned back, sighing. 

“Two days is nothing.” She said quietly. 

“Two days is enough for an enemy to get ahead of you.” He met her eyes. “Go two days without fiddling with one of your machines, testing one of your hypotheses, and tell me how it feels. I already lost a week after that damned explosion. I need to make it up. I’m close to achieving Super Saiyan. I can feel it.”

She bit her lip. “Goku isn’t even training right now. Chichi is making him and Piccolo take driving lessons.” She leaned against the desk. “Look, I’ll do it with you. I’ll stay out of my lab as long as you stay out of the gravity room. Deal?” She stuck her hand out.

He cocked an eyebrow at her hand. “I don’t understand what this signifies.”

Bulma grinned. Sometimes she forgot he was an alien, not used to Earth customs. “You shake on it. It means you’re agreeing to uphold your end of the bargain, and I’m agreeing to uphold my end.”

He extended his hand and hesitantly placed it in hers. She grasped it firmly and shook it between them. “One day. Whoever breaks first loses.” 

“And if neither of us breaks?” He asked. The corner of his lip turned up in amusement and warmth spread through Bulma’s chest. Sometimes that small smile made her feel special. She wasn’t sure there was anyone else in the entire galaxy that could make him smile, but she had somehow pulled it out of him. 

“Well I know that I’m not going to break, so if you can do it then I owe you a favor.” Bulma winked at him, hoping to see a blush spread across his cheeks. She felt victorious when she saw the pink tinge. He was such an easy target.

“What possible favor could you grant me? You have nothing I want.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll think of something. I’m rather good with my hands.” She pushed off from the table and began to walk out of her lab. “Come on, badman. Let me show you how Earthlings relax.”


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in the Dragon Ball Universe and all credit goes to the creators.
> 
> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve. Hope you enjoy this chapter! I wanted to get it up ASAP because I'm excited about the next couple of chapters I have planned.

Apparently, the Earthling version of relaxing included a lot of eating and sitting on a couch. Vegeta had watched TV a few times during his time on Earth, but never the type of program Bulma was currently showing him. 

She’d ordered something called “take out” and then had parked herself on the couch in the living room. The take-out turned out to be a combination of breakfast and lunch items and she had referred to it as something called “brunch”. He didn't care what it was called, he only cared that she ordered enough for him to feel full.

After changing his shirt, Vegeta had plopped down beside her and attempted to follow the program she put on. She’d called it Ninja something or other and so far, nothing interesting had happened, which was fine by him. Vegeta was more interested in watching Bulma flip through the magazine she’d picked up. She was mumbling to herself, her voice annoyed by something she read. He caught a flash of a familiar blue and snatched the magazine from her hand.

“Hey!” She said indignantly as he held it out of her reach.

The caption read, “Brief’s New Bae!”. He had no idea what that meant but was more concerned with the picture anyway. It was of her and a blurry figure that Vegeta recognized as himself standing in the back lot of the compound. To his knowledge, no one else should have access to that area, not even that staff that worked at Capsule Corp.

“Are we being spied on?” The hair on the back of his neck stood. He didn’t like the idea that someone had been taking pictures of them, watching them unnoticed.

“No! It’s just the paparazzi. Sometimes they get bored with real celebrities and come to bother me.” He lowered the paper and she snatched it back. “This one must have gotten past my perimeter on the day I was updating the security system.” She sighed. “Lucky bastard. He probably made a good amount of money off this picture.”

“What is a ‘bay-ee’?” 

“Bae. It just means boyfriend.” Vegeta knew he heard her use that word in reference to her former mate. It must be a word that meant something along those lines. He debated asking her what it meant but decided he didn’t care enough. “I mean, I’ve been single for over a month now. I don’t know why they’re so interested in my love life. It’s the most boring thing they could write about. It’s been one man for years and now that’s done.”

She chucked the magazine in the waste bin and took a bite of food. Around her mouth full of food she asked, “What about you, Vegeta? Any paparazzi following the life of a prince?”

He shrugged. From what he could glean from the information she’d presented, the paparazzi was essentially a spy that reported on inane details of someone’s life. Saiyan’s had bigger concerns and besides, he was six the last time he had been on planet Vegeta. 

Bulma cringed, her nose and cheeks scrunching as if she had inflicted unintentional pain to him. He shrugged her concern off. He hadn’t been offended. She knew little about him and often asked questions to try to trick him into sharing more about himself. 

“Sorry. Krillin mentioned that your planet was destroyed when you were still a child.”

He felt his scowl deepen. “Your bald friend talks too much.”

“Yeah. I guess he does.” She scooted closer to him. A brave move, he thought. “Don’t be too mad at him. I asked and he can’t say no to me. I’m too persuasive.”

This was no doubt true. He was sitting on a couch in her living room, letting her force-feed him when he should have been training. 

“You can’t blame me though. You’re so mysterious. You’ve been here over a year and I still know so little about you.” Her blue eyes turned to him and she bit her lip. It was a nervous habit she had when she was thinking about something she was unsure of. He tensed, preparing himself for an invasive question.

“What did it feel like?” She whispered finally, her voice barely audible over the sound of the television. 

He arched an eyebrow, silently asking her to elaborate. 

“What did it feel like to die?”

The question hit him hard. He had been expecting a question about his childhood, prepared to ignore her, or give her a vague answer. Instead, her words hung heavy between them awaiting his answer. His hands balled into fists where they rested on the tops of his legs. He wasn’t sure how to answer her question, wasn’t sure if he wanted to either.

If she was talking about the afterlife, he didn’t have an answer for her. He was only dead for a short period of time and was sure his soul hadn’t had time to get there. If it had, he had no memory of it.

If she was talking about the process of his life leaving his body… Vegeta had no desire to explain that to her. His death had been shameful. He had died pleading with Kakarot to kill the man he had trained his entire life to destroy, pleading with him to understand how vile a creature Frieza truly was. Tears had blurred his vision as he begged him to listen, begged him to understand the way he had forced the Saiyan race into slavery and used their powers of destruction for his own gain.

So he turned away and watched the TV without really seeing what was going on before him. 

Bulma shifted on the couch and a moment later he felt her the warmth of her body heat touch his arm. He went completely still.

Her small hand slipped over his and she squeezed. Her palm was soft against his own, the pressure enough to take him from his thoughts. 

She was a daring little thing: no one willingly touched Prince Vegeta, destroyer of worlds, murderer of innocents. Innocents just like her.

“Please.” He heard it then, the fear behind her question. “I just need to know if it hurts when we die. Do we remember the pain in death?” 

Vegeta sighed. “Your death won’t be like mine. Clawing at the last of your life force to ensure a fool understood why compassion should not always be given.”

His chest tightened at the memory of the burn in his lungs as he pulled in air to speak, at the sharp pain piercing through his chest pushing him closer and closer to oblivion. He fought the urge to touch the scar over his heart. He hadn’t been strong enough. He’d dreamed his entire life of besting that hideous monster and cutting off the laughter that haunted his nightmares but instead, he’d had to leave it to someone who didn’t know or understand the significance of Frieza’s death. A fool who gave that monster multiple chances to walk away, pretending there was good in everyone. 

Vegeta knew first hand that some beings were filled with nothing but cruelty. It was why he pushed himself to be stronger every chance he got. He would not let himself fail again. It was not an option.

He shoved Bulma’s hand away. Their agreement be damned. He needed to get back to training. He stood up and she quickly followed suit, blocking his path out of the living room.

“Don’t even think about it, Saiyan. I will break that room if you so much as touch the handle.” She poked him in the center of his wound and an involuntary hiss escaped his lips. 

He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to cower away from him. It was true that he was sore when he moved around, but the fact that he could move around with little issue meant he should be training.

Bulma huffed and tried to push him back onto the couch, her palms pressing into his chest. “Sit down. You’ll tear the stitches open if you train now.”

He shoved her hands away again. Hurt crossed her face and the familiar pink of her anger flushed her cheeks. She shoved at his chest and screeched in frustration.

“You stupid, stubborn man! What is it with you and your refusal to be kind to yourself?” She shoved him a second time. “All you do is beat your body up! You’re covered in bruises from your training, in scars that were never given a chance to heal properly!" Her finger poked a particularly angry-looking scar that was hidden beneath his shirt.  
" And now, you have an eight-inch wound across your chest that you’re treating as another minor inconvenience!” She balled her hands into fists and slammed them against his chest again. They flew back to hit him again and he quickly grabbed them.

“Woman this wound is nothing. I have no need for your coddling.” He kept a firm grip on her wrists, mindful not to hurt her. 

“I don’t care.” She growled. Her foot collided with his shin and he flinched. She could put some force behind her hits when she wanted to. “You stupid Saiyans. Don’t you understand that a body needs time to heal? To repair the damage done during training to get stronger?” 

Vegeta did know this. It was how Saiyan’s became stronger with each battle, their bodies learning from the hits they took. A Saiyan’s will to be better could not be beaten. It’s what made them the superior race. Even when they reached their goals, the itch to push it further crawled beneath their skin.

The woman sighed again and tugged at her hands. He dropped them and she flopped on the couch, defeated.

“You know what? Fine. Do whatever you want.” He went to walk around her but paused when she spoke again, her voice unusually flat. “I saw you in there, Vegeta. You were slower than normal. My bot bested you on a lower setting. You’re tired and your body gave you a warning in the gravity room this morning. I wish you would listen to it.”

Anger flared within him, white-hot. “What do you care?” The words were out before he could stop them. But it was honest. What did she care if he killed and destroyed his body in his pursuit of power?

Bulma bit her lip, anxiety pulling her brows down. “You’re my friend.”

“Tch. I have no need for something as useless as camaraderie.”

She scowled at him, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “Maybe you don’t but I do and you're my friend. We need you, Vegeta. As much as Yamcha and Tien want to complain about you staying, we need you. We can’t just rely on Goku to defeat the androids. If he loses, you’re the only chance we have. Hell, Goku would have lost to you if Yajirobe hadn’t gotten incredibly lucky when cutting off your tail.” She smiled sweetly at him and Vegeta knew he had lost the argument. 

It was this confession and this confession only that caused him to give in and drop back onto the couch beside her. Vegeta could fight until he was an inch from his life with any given enemy, but somehow this earth woman could undo him with her words alone. He had no defense for her tirades. She might not be able to physically overpower him, but her verbal arguments left him at a loss more often than not.

He could sense her smugness beside him but chose to ignore it. Let her have this win. He would be back in the room tomorrow, wound or not. They had agreed on one day of rest. That was it. He would not be tricked into a second day.

He tried to turn his attention back to the television and focus on the plot of the movie, but his thoughts floated back to the woman beside him time and time again. 

He didn’t want to admit it, but he enjoyed her company. He couldn’t remember having someone he didn’t need to prove himself to, someone who challenged him to be better by trying to better herself. He loved the spark in her eye when he shoved something at her to improve. It was the same spark he felt within him every time he ascended to a new level of power. He wanted more and so did she. 

Minutes passed and he felt his temper subside. Eventually, he was able to catch up with the plot of the movie and he allowed himself to be sucked in by the characters. When he heard soft snores from the couch beside him, he found her fast asleep, face resting on her forearms and a small pool of drool darkening the fabric of the couch.

He pulled the blanket down from the back and laid it on top of her before settling back into the couch himself, letting himself relax enough to doze off.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in the Dragon Ball Universe and all credit goes to the creators.
> 
> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve. Sorry for the delay getting this chapter up! Got too into Designated Survivor and couldn't focus on editing lol.

Bulma had to hand it to Vegeta. He had lasted the entire day without training, much to her surprise. She wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t meditated, but all she had asked of him was no physical training. And he hadn’t, which meant that she owed him a favor. 

When she asked him what he wanted, he had given the most predictable of replies: “I want nothing from you.” 

Which was fine. She knew what she wanted to give him anyways. The question was, how would she be able to do it without alerting him or making him suspicious? He was far too observant.

The answer was to take advantage of his rigid routine and work her magic around when she knew he wouldn’t be able to see her and would be far too preoccupied to sense her small ki. Which was why she was hiding in her room with her ear pressed against the door waiting to hear his door close, letting her know that he was going down for breakfast and training. She gave him a few more minutes in case he came back up for whatever reason and then opened her door.

She walked on tiptoes across the hall, checking the stairwell for any shadows or hint of movement. She didn’t want there to be any chance he heard her go into his room. He was generally non-violent towards her, but better to avoid the risk of angering him. This was definitely a violation of privacy, going through his things, and even she would debate about killing someone who did this to her. Murder was not so far-fetched a solution for him.

She slipped in and flipped on the lights. His room was immaculately clean, the comforter on the bed perfectly level, nothing out of place, no personal items of any kind. Nothing to suggest that Vegeta had been living in this room for the past year. 

A pit settled in her stomach at the thought, but she tried to ignore, instead walking to the closet to look for her prize. The clothes were hung up in an orderly fashion, hangers facing the same way with equal distance between each item. She rolled her eyes.  
“What a control freak.” She muttered as she roughly shoved them aside, looking for a box or somewhere he would be able to hide it. She found nothing but clothes. 

The shelf at the top was empty as well and she let out a small huff. She quickly reorganized the hangars and shut the door. 

She didn’t think he would hide it. He was too proud and cocky to believe that anyone would attempt to steal from him. 

Borrow, she corrected herself. 

She checked the dresser next, careful not to disturb the neatly folded clothing, and found it in the bottom drawer beside his neatly folded training gear, including his trademarked blue suit. Grinning, she pulled it out and headed back to her bedroom after making sure everything was just as he left it. 

She held her prize up and grinned: his Saiyan armor. She grabbed the towel she had set aside and wrapped it, quickly making her way to her lab immediately after. 

This was where her second problem could come up. She had to make sure that Vegeta didn’t see it when coming in and out of the gravity room. Bulma had a solution for that as well. She hid the armor under her desk and set to work installing a program in the gravity room that would send a notification when the gravity room began to power down, giving her just enough time to cover or hide her project. 

She checked on Vegeta on the monitor and saw him doing push-ups in the center of the room. Perfect. She grabbed the armor and put it on a table in the back of her lab to examine. 

The material was strangely elastic but durable. She examined the hole, pulling a microscope over to look closer.

Her initial plan was to repair it, but from her first examination, she knew that would be almost impossible. She would have to recreate it. Microscopic fractures ran from the hole, compromising the integrity of the material. It could probably still withstand a certain amount of pressure due to its elastic elements but he would need new armor before his next battle if he wanted more than the equivalent of a broken eggshell to protect his body. He’d take the risk, but she wouldn’t.

She extracted a small sample and placed it in her computer to have it process and identify the elements found within the material. Her next step would be examining the structure of the suit and attempting to mimic it as closely as possible.

She got to work.

\--

Hours passed before her computer went off, alerting her to the gravity room powering down. She quickly covered his suit with a sheet and turned back to her computer. She doubted he’d be able to recognize it’s molecular make-up so she kept working.

True to form, Vegeta gave no acknowledgment that he’d seen her. He rubbed the sweat from his brow with the towel wrapped around his neck and squeezed his water bottle into his mouth. A dribble missed and Bulma watched the small stream run down his chin, where it splashed onto his bare chest. The droplet slipped down between his pectorals until it was absorbed by the bandages.

Along the expanse of bandages, she could make out red-brown dots of blood. She frowned.

He wiped his mouth and turned his attention towards her. “Yes?”

“You’re bleeding.” 

He looked down and then shrugged, turning to leave her lab.

She rolled her eyes. She didn’t feel like chasing him. It would make more sense to redo them when he was finished anyway.

Her computer beeped at her again, letting her know it had finished processing the sample. She quickly reviewed it and sighed. It was as she had expected: the material was not made of anything found on earth. She set it to try and identify the closest earth materials. She’d have to make it from scratch.

She stood and stretched. She needed to get something to eat too.

In the kitchen, Vegeta loaded his plate with sandwiches and a variety of different foods her mother and the kitchen bots had made earlier in the day. She took a seat at the island and watched him. 

“The cut is fine. It’s healing. I checked it this morning so save your breath.” He muttered without looking up from his plate.

She crossed her arms and felt her face heat from irritation. “Alright, Mr. Self-Obsessed. I’m here to get some food too.”

He ignored her and finished with his plate, coming to sit on the other side of the island. She got her own meal and joined him in silence. 

Even from two chairs away, she could feel his presence. She had never been able to sense power levels, even high ones like Goku’s, but she was acutely aware of Vegeta. When he entered, power entered. 

Goku was powerful in terms of his ki level, more powerful than Vegeta even, but power was not only the ability to kill an opponent. It was the ability to break an opponent down to nothing, the ability to command a room, and convey that with this power, they were in control. They made the decisions and were willing to do what was necessary.

Vegeta held that power. He was a prince willing to kill for his pride, who, despite having everything taken from him, tore his power back bit by bit. Even if he had nothing, he was still a Saiyan. He was still a being designed to overcome struggle and become more powerful with each failure. Losing battles meant nothing if they could ultimately win wars. He was a warrior who strived to be the undisputed best until no one could take anything from him again. 

She admired him deeply for that. 

She bit her lip. Yamcha and she had fought over this several times before their break-up, but she couldn't help it. Vegeta was so interesting, so magnetic.

He’d been their enemy no more than a few years ago and then had willingly stayed to help them defeat the androids. He could spout all of the bullshit about doing it to fight Goku afterward, but in the end, he had chosen to help them.

There was good within him. When she’d said this to the others, they’d looked at her like she was crazy but she knew differently. She’d seen the reserved way he interacted with everyone, the way he touched her gently so as not to hurt her, the way he had agreed to help her multiple times when there was little in it for him. 

She firmly believed that good was a choice and Vegeta had started to make those choices more frequently. 

It was one thing for those choices to be easy, to have the life that Goku had where he was raised to see the good in people, to fight for the fun of it, and make friends along the way. He’d had friends who’d turned into a family. She’d once read that empathy was a learned behavior, to be taught by parents and interactions with friends, something Goku had no shortage of.

But Vegeta had been different. She knew little of his childhood and hated how desperately she tried to know more about him, latching onto every detail he had given. A childhood under the foot of an evil dictator where he started killing at a young age, and yet he had spared them on Namek when killing her and Krillin for the dragon ball would have been far easier. 

She was fascinated by him. She wanted to spend more time with him, learn more about him. She desperately wanted him to like her.

She sighed. What was wrong with her? 

She heard the door of the lab open again and her father stuck his head out. 

“Bulma dear! I was looking for you. I didn’t see you come into the lab this morning.” That was unsurprising. His lab was in the back and she hadn’t seen him down there in a few weeks. After the explosion, she had taken over completing many of the improvements Vegeta had asked for. Her father was getting close to retirement and the board had wanted to see her work more frequently, plus staying busy helped keep her mind from floating back to impending doom.

“I was down there for a few hours.” 

Her father began loading his plate and nodded to Vegeta, turning back to his daughter when his plate was full.

“When you’re finished, I wanted to go over a few things with you. The board’s been pushing to get the new model out and we need to figure out how to…” She stopped listening. 

Vegeta was moving beside her father, loading his plate with a second helping. With every move, she watched the muscles in his arms and his abdomen ripple as he reached for each item. He looked up at her for a quick moment, his eyes unreadable, before moving back to his seat.

She focused on her father, trying to follow what he had been saying. She was sure it had to do with the board’s most recent request for technology to go into space. Obviously, they had it. She and her father were just trying to figure out how much should be available to the public.

Her father went back down to the lab and the kitchen fell quiet except for the sound of utensils scraping across plates. 

Lists of topics ran through her mind, trying to find a subject she could engage him in before he finished. She came up with nothing, wishing he would make the first move, show an interest in her for once. 

She pushed her food around on her plate, silently pouting when she heard the legs of his chair scrape against the ground as he stood. He deposited his dishes into the sink and then headed back down to resume his training. 

What was she thinking? He’d made it clear that he had no interest in friendship or “camaraderie” as he had called it. Her loneliness was clouding her judgment. She needed to speak to her friends soon, actually address her issues with Yamcha so she felt comfortable reaching out to the others again. 

She groaned and pushed herself up from her chair, heading back to her lab. 

She would get him his armor by the end of the week, she told herself. Realistically, she thought that she might need to get her father involved if she intended to make the deadline.

\--

In the gravity room, Vegeta was struggling. After lunch, he’d turned the gravity to three hundred and set the bots on high.

He’d been training to catch that blasted Kakarrot for years, and yet he still hadn’t achieved the legendary super Saiyan. He was close, more powerful than he had ever dreamed was possible, but he still wasn’t there. 

Something was missing. Whatever it was that had pushed Kakarrot into finally ascending to a level no other Saiyan had achieved for hundreds, possibly thousands of years continued to evade him. 

Three bots surrounded him, their lasers aimed at his chest. He waited, looking for the moment they took the shot. It was his opening to move. If he could be fast enough to move and avoid the shot, he could hit them before they had time to redirect or shoot a second blast at him. 

They went silent, then he saw the red of the blast coming at him. He flew straight up. From above, he fired at the closest one, hitting it in the middle. It crumpled to the ground. He dodged two more and kicked another to the ground, smirking as it shattered at the contact. 

That left him with the third, the newest of Dr. Brief’s and Bulma’s creations. It was faster than the others, sturdier and more powerful. It was truly impressive craftsmanship. If Vegeta had been a more outspoken person, he might have told him this. Instead, he’d decided that he’d have to destroy it. 

He imagined Bulma’s face, the red flare of her temper in cheeks, the heavy beat of her heart as she yelled at him, berated him for not stopping before it was too late. 

A shot skimmed past his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. He cursed. That blasted woman was nothing but a distraction. 

He dodged another shot and powered up, a scream tearing from his lungs as his power rushed through his body. He readied a beam in his hand, dodging the bot’s blade. He grabbed the body of the bot and crushed it between in his fist, firing the blast at it. It fell the ground for a split second before it flew back at him. 

He grinned. They had outdone himself. Vegeta kicked it away, then followed, slamming it into the wall again and again until it he heard the whizzing within stop. The image of a man dying flashed in his mind and he dropped the bot. It fell to the ground with a large bang.

He landed beside it and started to gather the pieces. 

Would he be like that nameless face, someday? So unimportant that Vegeta couldn’t even remember where he had killed him, so powerless that the fight was unremarkable. He involuntarily clenched his fist around the metal bot and hissed at the sharp slice of pain in his palm. 

Before he could examine it, he felt how deep it had gone and was unsurprised when the blood started to drip from his hand. 

He sighed. He might as well call it a day. His hand would need to rest, heal the tendons that might be impacted by the cut. 

He powered down and quickly ended the gravity simulation, yanking the door open. He heard a beeping sound in the distance and looked for the source. 

Bulma was sitting at her computer, unconcerned with the Saiyan’s sudden exit. Her brows were pulled down in concentration as she examined something on her screen. She licked her bottom lip and Vegeta felt a familiar pull in his abdomen. 

Her beauty was infuriating, her confidence even more so. His thoughts wandered back to that day she’d invited him to stay at the compound with the Nemekians. She’d been fearless then too, poking him in the chest and taunting him, trying to embarrass him. 

He’d killed for less, much less. 

A droplet of blood threatened to fall onto the floor of the lab and he lifted his hand to his chest, cradling it with his other hand. He looked at the first aid kit under the control center and huffed. He wouldn’t be able to wrap his hand without help.

“Woman. I need your assistance.” He heard the growl in his voice, the irritation most likely present on his face. Her head snapped up and her gaze immediately found the blood dripping down his arm. 

She ran to grab the kit and pushed him into the nearest chair.

Her fingers tugged at his hand until he conceded. They prodded the wound, checking how deep it was. His blood quickly stained the cream color of her skin red. She paid it no attention, reaching for something inside of the kit.

“Shit, Vegeta. What did you do? Stop one of the blades with your bare hand?” She tore open a wet nap and began to wipe up the streaks of blood that ran from his hand to his elbow. 

“I tried to pick up one of the pieces that broke off and got distracted. I was careless.” Her blue eyes narrowed in disbelief. He huffed in annoyance. 

“What on earth could you have gotten distracted by? You’re in a room with nothing but tiled walls and robots attempting to kill you.” She held his hand up between them, the blue of her eyes visible in the spaces between his fingers. “Move them.”

He wiggled them to show her there was no damage done to the muscles, nerves, or tendons. She pulled a few butterfly stitches out of the kit and placed them along the wound, closing it. She quickly wrapped it in a new bandage and then pointed to the bandage around his chest.

“Can I check on these now?”

She checked his face for confirmation and started undoing the bandages at his nod. She looked them over, her warm fingers probing the remaining stitches. He’d felt some of them pull during training but had shrugged it off. If it had been serious, there would have been pain. 

She coated the wound with some type of antiseptic gel and wrapped fresh bandages around his torso, her fingers skimming along his skin. He fought off a shudder and felt his cheeks heat as goosebumps trailed behind her fingers. She lightly traced the lines of ribs, checking to make sure the bandage was in place. 

He shoved them away from him. 

Hurt flashed across her face, but she cleared her throat and stepped away from him as he stood. “The rest of the new bots should be ready by the end of the week. Dad and I are just finishing some of the modifications.”

Vegeta nodded and started to walk out of the lab. He stopped at the corner and turned back. He watched her clean up for a moment, watched her push her hair behind her ear.

He realized it wasn’t the same curls he’d grown accustomed to, but was the straight style he’d seen her with on Namek. Before he could stop himself, the words were out of his mouth.

“Your hair looks nice.” His cheeks heated at the admission and he quickly left the lab, rushing upstairs to shut himself in his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve. I'll try to update weekly.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing in the Dragon Ball Universe and all credit goes to the creators.
> 
> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve. 
> 
> Sorry for the delay posting this! Been pretty busy with a couple of personal things and I'm a little rusty writing so it took a little longer. But here it is! Please be kind in the comments, but let me know what you think!

Bulma was on edge, every noise sending her heart pounding, her body flinching. 

She’d borrowed Vegeta’s armor a week ago and he still hadn’t noticed. She was sure that he’d been avoiding her, changing his routine so that he wouldn’t cross her path. This made it difficult for Bulma to return it, too nervous to be caught in his room. He was often up early, asleep late. Taking longer breaks from the gravity room.

She knew that technically returning the armor wasn’t the only option. She could just show him what she’d done, fess up to the invasion of privacy. But bravery wasn’t exactly her thing. She wouldn’t say that she was easily afraid, but this was a matter of pride. She’d stolen his valued property to fix it. If it didn’t hold up during a fight and put him at risk, it was on her. 

She sighed. She still wanted his old armor out of her lab.

Honestly, the whole thing was so ridiculous. Was he really avoiding her because he’d complimented her hair? Was it really that embarrassing to admit he had working eyes?

Of course, her hair looked amazing. She always looked amazing. She saw the way he looked at her, the way his gaze sometimes lingered on her when she walked into a room or the way he seemed to smile at only her. She’d gotten him to notice her and she was pretty sure it was in more ways than one. 

She rolled her eyes and picked up the new armor she had made. She’d needed her father’s help to check some of her calculations and find suitable replacement materials, but they’d been able to finish it by the end of the week as she’d hoped. She hadn’t had time to test it out, to make sure that it was able to stretch and form to a body like his Saiyan armor had been able to do.

He’d left the gravity room a few minutes ago and she figured she had a few minutes before he finished his dinner, so it was as good a time as any to test out the finished project. Her fingers ran along the smooth surface as she marveled at the near-identical craftsmanship. She’d tried to stay with his color combination but had to take some liberties with the shoulders. His previous armor had been a solid piece, but Bulma hadn’t been able to get the shoulders quite right and had instead made them with a chain designed to stretch. 

She listened for a moment, trying to hear the distinct sound of his heavy footsteps. 

Silence.

Her parents were out for the evening, leaving her alone in her lab.

She smiled and slipped it over her head. The material was snug against her chest, molding to the shape of her breasts and the slim line of her waist. She moved from side to side, stretching her hands above her head, making sure that it moved with her comfortably.

She turned her computer camera on to see what she looked like. She felt pretty invincible, but the image of herself in battle armor was so ridiculous that a small laugh escaped her lips. She wondered if this was what Saiyan women looked like, if their arms were as thin as her own. 

She doubted it. She was pretty sure that female Saiyan warriors existed, though she’d never asked Vegeta. She added it to her mental list of questions for him. She turned the monitor off and bit her lip. She needed to get this off, but was sure she would struggle with it… she should have tested it out while her father was here. They needed a lookout.

And then she heard it, the sound she’d been dreading the past week. His voice roared through the house, her name yelled as if it was a promise for death, for vengeance.

Her stomach dropped. He was fast, she wouldn’t be able to get the armor off before he made it down to the lab. Instead, she steeled her nerves and sat on her desk, facing the door to pretend she’d been waiting for him. If she was going to die, at least she’d face it head-on and annoy him in the process.

Not even a second later, the door to the lab burst open and the Saiyan’s short frame burst through with so much force the window to the door shattered.

He paid it no mind and instead zeroed in on her. He took a step forward and she uncrossed her arms, planting them beside her on the smooth surface of the desk, curling her fingers under to support her.

Vegeta’s step faltered, some unknown look flashing across his face before he regained his composure and closed the distance between them. He was inches from her, so close she felt the radiating heat of his body. She’d always thought she’d feel afraid being this close to him, but she only felt the familiar rush of defiance straighten her spine and fuel her temper. 

The audacity of this man to run through her house and break her door. Honestly, couldn’t he be a bit more considerate of this home they’d let him borrow?

Bulma smiled brightly, trying to project as much innocence as possible. His gaze dropped to the armor on her chest, lingering for a few moments before his gaze settled back on her face.

“Hello, Vegeta.” 

His lip rose in a snarl, one finger coming up to the strap at her shoulder. He slid it under and pulled it up, watching as it snapped back into place. 

“On Planet Vegeta, thieves would be killed. Thieves that stole from royalty would be tortured before their painful demise.”

She batted her lashes at him and spread a hand over her chest in mock bewilderment. “I don’t think I have any idea what you’re talking about. Did someone steal something of yours?”

A growl rumbled within his chest and Bulma could swear she felt the vibration within her own.

“If you think this poor replica armor will be enough to protect you from me, you are sorely mistaken.” His voice was low, dangerous. 

Bulma’s face heated in indignation. “Poor replica? Excuse me. I replicated the exact structure of your armor. This thing withstood even more pressure than your actual armor could.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Your old armor was compromised and one more hit would have rendered it useless.”

“Where is my armor?” He licked his lips and leaned in close. Bulma understood then, the look that had crossed his face when he saw her. She understood the feeling that settled deep in her torso and the heat the settled between her legs at his proximity, at the threat in his voice. 

She straightened her back and pulled at the gold chain of the shoulders, letting them snap against her own exactly as he had just done. “Right here.” 

She met his eyes, daring him to do something about what she’d done. His brow pulled down in thought for a moment and then his lips crashed against her own, one of his hands burying itself in her hair, the other pulling her closer by her hip. Bulma felt her instincts take over as her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands around his neck, pulling him closer to her until she felt the hard lines of his chest against her own. 

She’d thought about what it would be like to kiss him before, wondered if he would be as rough with her as he was with everything else, wondered if his muscles were as firm as she thought they would be, or his lips as hard as everything else about him.

Her fantasies had been wrong. Kissing him was better than anything she’d dreamed of. His lips were soft beneath hers and his hand traveled from where it had buried itself in her hair to the outline of the armor.

Her hand wound its way into his hair, pulling him closer until she felt him between her legs, pressing into her until a small moan escaped her lips. His hand at her hip tightened, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. His teeth scraped along her bottom lip, biting just hard enough to leave her wanting more, hard enough to bruise but not break. His tongue slid along the bottom, soothing the area as he ground into her, the hand at her hip moving to slide along the exposed skin at her waist just below the armor, his other hand burying itself back into her hair.

There was a sound in the distance and he broke away from her. For a brief moment, they just stared at each other, chests rising and falling trying to catch their breath. 

He moved first, his hand untangling itself from her hair, gently pushing her away from him as he stepped out of reach. The cool air rushed to fill the spot where he had been standing and Bulma crossed her arms, her fingers wrapping around her sides to protect herself from the exposure.

Her parents called something to one another down the hall, her father most likely coming to finish some project. 

Vegeta cleared his throat. “Where is it?”

She blinked, her brain not able to quite understand what he was asking. 

He sighed. “My armor, woman. Give it back.”

“Oh. Yes.” She leaned over to the drawer and pulled it out, tossing it to him. He caught it easily and then he was gone. Her father must have said something as he walked down the hall and she pulled herself from her daze. She hopped off the desk and ran behind one of her machines, struggling to pull off the blasted armor. It came off, messing up her hair in the process. She heard her father’s shoes crunch on the broken glass and dropped the armor behind the machine. 

“Goodness! What happened here?” Bulma’s stomach dropped. “Why is there glass everywhere?”

She exhaled in relief and stepped out from her hiding place. “Vegeta opened the door a little too forcefully.” 

“That boy has too much strength for this own good.” Dr. Briefs let out an exasperated sigh and Bulma grabbed for the broom and dustpan she kept under her desk, moving to sweep up the shards before they caused an injury.

\--

Vegeta had gone straight upstairs and turned the shower on high, jumping in before it was ready. He shivered at the cold stream but wasted no time grabbing the soap. He needed to wash her off of him. 

He couldn’t believe what had just happened down there. He couldn’t believe that he had been the one to do it, that he’d lost control and given into that treacherous base instinct. He’d kissed her, had wanted to do so much more to her.

She’d looked like a Saiyan in that armor, that look of anger flushing her cheeks pink, that fucking fierce scowl, and her mocking grin. She was fearless and he’d been undone by that look of defiance, of the way she hadn’t backed down even when he could smell the fear on her.

She’d pulled him closer, buried her fingers into his hair, and wrapped her legs around him as if she wanted him, as if she didn’t care he might kill her. 

He scrubbed shampoo into his hair, repeating the process until all he could feel was the scrape of his nails, the pull from his hands. 

But he couldn’t get the image of her in that armor out of his head, couldn’t erase the feel of her pressed tightly against him, the heat of her, the smell of her, the sound she made when he settled between her legs.

He wanted to hear it again, wanted to pull louder sounds from her, pull that armor over her head and—

He slammed the shower off and snatched the towel, wrapping it around his waist before he walked back into his room to throw himself on the bed. 

What had he been thinking? The woman was a distraction he couldn’t afford. He was so close to achieving the legendary Super Saiyan and letting his thoughts continue to float back to that infuriating woman was doing nothing but getting in the way.

How had Kakarrot done it? The man was an absolute buffoon who certainly hadn’t been training as hard as he had this entire time. From what he’d gathered from Bulma, he spent a good part of his time running errands for his wife or smelling flowers in fields with that useless son of his. Clearly focusing on something other than training hadn’t kept Kakarrot from reaching the legend.

He laughed bitterly. Maybe fucking a woman would finally get rid of this pent up frustration, let him focus on something other than his failed attempt to take revenge for his people, the blue of her eyes, that vast intelligence—

He stopped himself. He hadn’t been with a female in years. She wasn’t like those others who were nothing but simple ways to pass the time. He couldn’t ignore the fact that he didn’t feel quite so alone when she was there. If he wanted to, he could pretend she was a Saiyan. She certainly acted the part. She was more Saiyan than Kakarrot for sure, but then again Kakarrot had cast aside his heritage, his pride, and had no intention of reclaiming it.

He tossed an arm over his eyes, blocking out the light and tried to remember what Planet Vegeta had looked like. He could remember the design of the castle, the pillars that lined that great hall—

A small tap on his door pulled him from his thoughts and he quickly got up to open it, unsurprised to find the person hadn’t waited for him. He looked down and smirked. At his feet sat the armor Bulma had made for him. He knew it would be expertly engineered to fit and work as his old armor had.

She was truly something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve. I'll try to update weekly.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment with any typos you have seen or to let me know what you think! Always willing to take some constructive criticism to continue to improve.  
> I am aiming to update this at least once or twice per week since I have a little more time on my hands right now.  
> -atucks


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